Sugar Rush

by Belle Aurora

  A pathetic look crosses Max’s face. He rubs absently at his belly. “But I’m hungry.”

  Adorable.

  No. Scratch that.

  Adorably pathetic.

  I reach across the small table to cup his pathetic cheek. He leans into my touch and I purse my lips, muttering, “Nawww, my big, stupid baby.” He pouts, nodding in agreement, and although this is the worst date I’ve ever been on in my life, I’m having so much fun. And I don’t know why! Something pushes that thought to air. I tell him, “This has been the worst date ever,” but I do it with a smile. A real smile.

  Max leans further into my cheek, eyes apologetic, and mouths, “Sorry.”

  Pulling my hand away, I admit, “But I’m having so much fun,” I throw him a shy smile, “with you.”

  He smiles then, his billion-dollar, GQ magazine smile. “Naw, shucks, lady.” But his smile falters. “You sure you’re not pissed about that girl?”

  “Am I going home with you tonight?” I ask.

  His brows narrow. “Damn straight.”

  I shrug. “Then I don’t care.” Smiling, I nibble at a corn chip. “I win.”

  Something about my answer affects him, and I’m not sure how to read it. His eyes widen a little before they hood. He looks to be biting the inside of his cheek, as if trying to keep his mouth shut. Shaking his head, he mutters, “You are somethin’ else.”

  When Kate returns, she takes our order from Max, glowering at him the entire time, but sparing a sweet smile for me as she leaves. She brings our meals and places the plates down in front of me gently, using as much care as possible, but when she places plates down in front of Max, she releases them an inch above the table, making them clash and clatter before turning and swishing her hair as she walks away. And I chuckle to myself. He must’ve really pissed her off. Meh. Serves him right.

  I place the nachos in the middle of the table and reach over to his plate to snatch one of the most perfect looking chicken enchiladas I have ever seen. Max watches in shock as I steal from his plate. Bunching his nose, he reaches over to my plate and steals one of my steak fajitas in retaliation.

  I smile over at him and wink. Little does he know, I am not Nat. Sharing food makes me happy. Nat would cut a bitch for stealing off her plate. I cut a piece of enchilada and pop it into my mouth. The fresh, spiced flavor is amazing. I moan and close my eyes. It’s only when my eyes flutter open that I realize Max is talking.

  “I’m sorry. What?”

  He grins. “I asked you if you left a guy back home.”

  He’s asking me if I had a boyfriend back home? Why the sudden interest? Don’t read too much into it, numbskull. Shaking my head slowly, I cut at the enchilada for a second bite. “No. I didn’t have time to date back home, and I never planned on dating here. I suppose I could have dated back home, but then where would that leave the guy? Probably in a corner.” Like Baby in Dirty Dancing. “My job comes first, and as long as I’m building up my hours, I think it would be unfair to commit to someone, knowing they’d have little to no time with me.”

  Max looks down at his plate, confusion written all over his face. I ask a long, drawn out, “What?”

  Lifting his face, brows still furrowed, he replies softly, “I think whatever amount of your time you could give a guy, he’d be grateful for.” He holds my eyes. “He’d be a lucky man to have you, cupcake. Even for a minute.”

  Oh shit. That was deep and sweet and freaking adorable. My heart pounds in time with my head. I’m in trouble. Stop it, Max! I’m not meant to love you!

  If he’s venturing into deep water, I feel as I thought I should be meeting him halfway. “Tell me about Ceecee’s mom.”

  He immediately stiffens. “No.”

  My brows rise at the hatred in his voice. “Uh, okay.”

  We eat in silence for a little while as I give him the few minutes to calm down before I notice him deflate. His shoulders slump and jaw tight, he mutters, “Sorry. She’s a sore subject.”

  I nod. “Understandable.” The silence between us is so thick it’s becoming awkward. And I’ve not had an awkward moment with Max since we’ve been dating. I don’t like it. Reaching over the table, I rest my hand on his forearm. “We don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to. But if you need someone to talk to, I’m here with open ears.”

  His eyes dart from the hand on his arm then up to my face, searching. He looks suspiciously toward me. “That’s it? No ‘I asked you, so you gotta tell me’ or ‘Fine, we’re done’ bullshit?”

  I’m sure the expression on my face screams affronted. “I prefer you happy, and I can see talking about this is having the opposite effect. So, no.”

  His eyes close, once again pained as he mutters under his breath. “She prefers me happy. She cancels her own surprise for wheelchair basketball. She doesn’t care about the waitress.” He lifts his eyes heavenward. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  Um, okay then. “What are you talking about?”

  Max smiles. It’s forced. I know this, because it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Nothing.” He holds out a hand and I place my own in it. He lifts it to his mouth and kisses it. “Just glad I’m here. With you.” He kisses my knuckles a second time. “No place I’d rather be.”

  I smile softly. “Ditto.”

  Dinner only gets better from that point. Max and I eat, talk, and laugh most of the night, and when it comes time to leave, he leaves a more than decent tip for poor, sweet Kate. I’d like to say my sympathy runs deep, but I’d be lying. I am more than happy to be the one going home with Max. Ecstatic, really.

  Like a gentleman, he opens the car door for me and sees me inside. We drive back to my apartment, and from the moment we step outside of the car, we can’t keep our hands off of each other. Reaching up, he hooks a hand behind my neck, pulling me closer, and then his lips come down to mine.

  And I melt into him. The kiss is deep and sweet. My knees turn to jelly and my core clenches tighter than ever. His lips are soft, softer than I imagined, and the smell of his cologne makes my head swim.

  My mouth waters. God, he’s delicious.

  A total DILF.

  We can’t keep our lips to ourselves the entire way upstairs. When we reach my apartment, I unlock the door, lips firmly attached to his, and we step inside, closing the door behind us. His arms wind around me, holding me tight, leading me toward my bedroom, when something comes to mind.

  Separating from him, I step back, delighted in the small growl that escapes him. I walk backward to the kitchen, unbuttoning my jeans as I do, smiling sexily. I slowly lower my zipper, hook my thumbs into the waistband, and push my jeans down my legs. Stepping out of them, I move to the counter.

  I see the exact moment he understands. Fire lights in his eyes, and suddenly, he rips at his clothes. I chuckle softly as he fights with his belt buckle. In the sudden excitement, he’s become clumsy. He kicks his shoes off, leaning down and hopping on the spot to remove his socks. He lowers his jeans halfway, then takes a step, tripping over them. He rights himself, pulling his shirt over his head, forgetting the buttons and having it get stuck around his neck. He pulls, tugs, and yanks until he’s finally free and nearly naked.

  My silky tan tank is easily removed, and then I’m only in my cream lace bra and matching French-cut panties. Which is fine, because Max is dressed only in black and white checkered boxers. He palms his erection as he walks over to me. Eyes hooded with lust, he admits, “I don’t think I can hold back.”

  Reaching behind me, I undo my bra, letting it fall down my arms. “I don’t want you to.”

  He squeezes his cock tight through his boxers. “It might be rough.”

  Making a show of it, I slide my panties down my thighs, letting them go at the knee. They fall to the ground. “I love rough.”

  He eyes my body appreciatively, then mutters unconsciously, “You make me crazy.”

  I love the way he looks at me. “You make my body burn.”

  One more st
ep and he’s in front of me, looking down at me. He leans down, pushing my back into the side of the counter, and takes my lips in a feral kiss before spinning me around and pushing his front into my back. The hard warmth of his body gives me goose bumps. Reaching around, he takes my hands and places them on the counter. “Don’t move.”

  My stomach clenches. Oh my. Gentle hands roam my body and I ache. One hand squeezes my nape in such a dominant way I press my thighs together and bite my lip to stop myself from crying out. The other hand caresses my shoulders, back, lower still, the curve of my ass, squeezing gently before he steps back.

  I fight a mewl. His fingertips graze the skin of my bottom a moment before he slides them down between my legs.

  Eeeek! Yay!

  My eyes close in delight as he hisses out, “Fuck. Jesus, Lena, I—fuck.” He presses into me from behind, his hard heat pushing into my ass, a finger sliding back and forth through my heat. He puts his lips to my ear and whispers, “You always gonna be this wet for me?”

  Not even a moment’s hesitation. “Always, baby.” I haven’t even noticed he’s removed his boxers ‘til the head of him seeks entrance. Arching my back, I hold the counter tight and mutter, “For as long as you want me.”

  He stills at my back, and my eyes snap open as I think hard about what I’ve said wrong. Moving my hair over my shoulder, a gentle kiss at the base of my neck eases my tension. With his lips against me, he utters, “When are you gonna understand, woman?” His cock slides through my wet heat, teasing. I moan weakly. He places himself at my entrance before stating harshly, “I am never letting you go.”

  With one severe thrust, he’s inside of me, stretching me, all the way. And I see stars. I gasp, “Oh God!” at the same time Max lets out a guttural, “Jesus. Fuck.”

  Bending at the waist, I lower my face to the counter, resting my cheek to the cool surface as he pounds into me angrily. Every single thrust pulls a pant from me. My breasts bounce in time with my body. Max snakes a hand around my stomach, pulling me deeper into him as he drives into me. He’s so deep he hits places of me I didn’t know existed. It’s amazing. Breathtaking.

  Slamming into me, he whispers, “Shit. Perfect. Tell me what you need, baby.”

  Shame long out the window, I cry out, “Pull my hair.” Never stopping his violent pace, he reaches up and wraps his fingers into my hair, pulling lightly. But it’s not enough. When I wheeze out, “Harder,” his grip and pace turn cruel.

  He hisses out, “Fuck, you’re amazing.”

  More painful than expected, I moan loudly as my core contracts suddenly. The pressure builds higher and higher. My core squeezes tighter and tighter. Sweat streams down my forehead and neck as I grit my teeth expectantly, waiting for the impact of the delicious torture I’m being assaulted with.

  My body goes numb with perfect warmth as the stars behind my eyes explode, shattering into a million pieces like a mosaic of multicolored glass. Beautiful and painful at the same time. I come around him, moaning, milking him with every pull, and he growls, “Right behind ya, babe.”

  His thrusts turn erratic, uncontrollable, and in the state of bliss I’m in, I squeeze him internally, wanting his release. Releasing my hair, he grips my hips and drives into me balls deep once more before his fingers dig into me. A low, guttural sound is forced out of his throat as his cock explodes inside of me, jerking. As he comes down from his high, he slowly pulls out then pushes back in. He does this a number of times and our combined arousal runs down my thighs.

  No condom.

  At my uncharacteristically calm thought, he states, “Didn’t use a condom.”

  I nod, turning back to him, looking over my shoulder, his cock still inside me. “I’m on birth control. I have an implant in my arm. And I’m clean.”

  His eyes soften. “Get tested every year at my physical. I’m good.”

  I smile a small smile. “Well, all right then.”

  Pulling out, he turns me, pressing me back into the counter, his hard, naked body on mine. “Never fucked like that before.”

  My smile turns shy. “Me either.”

  Max leans down, placing a soft kiss on my lips. “Never wanted to before you.” He pulls back, placing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I wasn’t lying, Lena. You drive me crazy.”

  I swallow hard. “Crazy can be good.”

  His eyes dance. “With you, anything’s good.”

  He’s killing me. I must save myself from the sweet! Slipping out from under his arm, I rush toward the shower. “Last one in’s a rotten egg!”

  He chuckles behind me and I start the shower, wondering what it would take for Max to love me like I do him.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Helena

  Max and I woke early, cuddling and exchanging sweet kisses before we had to pick up Ceecee from Tina’s, where Mama Leokov had been watching all the children the night before. Time kept creeping up on us, but we didn’t care. We’d both showered the night before, and thanks to Max’s overnight bag, he’d packed everything he needed, from clothes, an electric shaver and hair wax, to deodorant and cologne.

  If you asked me if I had dug into that bag when he wasn’t there just to smell his cologne, I would tell you to mind you own freaking business…but I wouldn’t deny it. In fact, the second pillow on my bed smelled an awful lot like that cologne. Funny, as I use that pillow as my snuggle pillow.

  When it came time to go, I slid on navy sweats, a white tank, a black zip-up sports jacket, and slipped on my sneakers, putting my hair up in a high ponytail, and not a stitch of makeup. Max walked out of the bathroom and I almost died.

  By God, he is magnificent.

  He strolled out of my bathroom wearing black sweats, white Chucks, and nothing else. I eyed the lean, hard ridges of his stomach, my mouth parting in appreciation. When a tight black tee covered those ridges, I felt myself pout. Max strolled over to me, stopping only an inch away. He took my chin between his thumb and forefinger, and lifted my face to his. He pressed a firm, meaningful kiss on my pouting lips before pulling away, his golden eyes searching mine. “You keep looking at me like that and we’ll never get going.”

  I breathed, “Right,” but my eyes went to his lips.

  He stepped away and groaned, “Lena! Fuck. Now look at what you’ve done.” He grasped his growing erection and I laughed softly, covering my blush with my hand. He glared at me. “Yeah. Laugh it up. I’m gonna scare the fuckin’ kids with this shit! So, stop.”

  But I couldn’t. I walked over to him and pressed myself into his body, smiling up at him. Placing a hand on his chest, I teased, “You get moody when you’re horny.”

  His muttered response was fuel for my ego. “Never been this horny before in my life, not even when I was a teenager.” He reached back to the counter for his black NY baseball cap, placed it on his head, and then glowered down at me. “You got pussy voodoo or some shit, I swear.”

  He took my hand and led me to the door, grabbing a hoodie on the way. “Let’s go, cupcake.” He paused at the door, looking back at me with that familiar tender gleam in his eyes. “Have I told you how beautiful you look today?”

  Ugh. Swoon.

  I give Max the name of the park, and luckily, he knows where it is. I turn in my seat to chat to a nervous looking Ceecee. Her golden eyes bright with excitement, her auburn hair pulled into two sweet looking pigtails, dressed in a pink velour tracksuit, and white tee, she looks gorgeous this morning. “How’re you doing back there, young grasshopper?”

  She looks up at me with wide eyes and whispers, “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  My eyes narrow at her. Sergeant Lena, coming through! “Don’t give me that BS. Look at what you’ve done all by yourself in the last month. It’s short of a miracle. Your fitness is past what I planned for. If you can do that, you can do this.”

  She raises her brows. “I didn’t do that alone. You helped.”

  I roll my eyes. “Semantics. I didn’t force you; you agreed to do it
and you kept your promise.” It’s true that I still have a light session with Ceecee three times a week before our cooking lessons, as well as the three sessions she has with James. And she does it without complaint.

  The kid is a little socially awkward. She has friends at school, but she doesn’t like for them to come over, or for her to go to their houses, mainly because those houses aren’t access-friendly for people in wheelchairs. Ceecee told me how once she went to a school friend’s house and it was awkward. So awkward that Ceecee decided having friends at school was okay, but that was as far as it went. There would be no friend communication outside of school.

  I told her that she must be lonely. My heart broke when she responded with a light shrug, saying she was used to it. I’m feeling all too protective of this girl. I can see it and realize this could be an issue, but, God help me, I can’t stop myself from trying to help. This isn’t just another child. This is Max’s child. And she is a sweet, smart, self-conscious girl who I want the best for. I love Max. And I love Ceecee just as much. Maybe more, because she needs it more. As long as I’m around, Ceecee will never feel lonely. I swear it.

  When she swallows hard, face pale, I start to sweat. “Hey,” she looks up at me, near panting, and I utter quietly, “if you really think you can’t do this, we’ll go home.” She blinks up at me in surprise and I feel the need to reiterate, “This is your choice, honey. One hundred percent.”

  And just as I knew she would, she responds a hushed, “Maybe I’ll just go and see how I feel.”

  A beaming smile crosses my face. “That’s my girl.”

  Max squeezes my knee in gratitude. He knows better than to cut into our girl-talk. Never taking his eyes off the road, he talks back to Ceecee over his shoulder. “Baby girl, how would you feel about going to Coney Island tomorrow?”

  Her eyes widen. “Really?”

  Max smiles. “No shit.”

  A shy smile spreads across her face. “Okay, but only if Helena comes.”